Unbearable Brightness
by NaomiP
Summary: Sequel to 'Into the Light.' Susan struggles to continue on after Luka's death.SusanDubenkoCarterSam. In ch.9, Susan becomes a parent again, and it isn't easy. 'I don't know anything about, kids, Sam! Why did I think I could do this' Will finish. Soon.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's note:_ This is the third (and final) story in the series that began with _Darkness_, and _Into the Light._ In an ideal world you should read those first, not only because they'll help you to follow this one, but because they are, IMO, the best things I've ever written. But I realize that they aren't exactly quick and easy reads. (Not only are they very long at roughly 30,000 and 90,000 words respectively, but they are pretty heavy going in spots) And it is very possible to read and enjoy this one without having read the first two parts of the series. (However, you really _should_ at least read the last 4 or so chapters of _ITL_, and _Family Jewels _to get a better sense of what's happening, and where Susan is coming from emotionally, since this fic picks up directly after that one.)

Originally there were no real plans for this third story. _ITL_ was the end of the saga. Last summer little 'scenes' in this one began nagging at me but I still didn't have any real idea of what I wanted to do with it. (A vague "Susan's life after Luka" is not a plot.) Then, when I finished _Invisible_ a few months ago, several people commented that they'd like to see me write a Dubenko fic. And more ideas started churning. And this is the result. I hope you like it. There is, unusually for me, no Luka (for obvious reasons.)At least not physically. He's mentioned a lot. There's lots of Susan, lots of Dubenko, quite a bit of Carter and Sam and a few surprises. Minor appearances by most other characters.

For a very brief summary of _Darkness_, see the first chapter of _ITL_. In the second story, Susan and Luka gradually become close, first as friends, then as lovers. However, Luka was exposed to HIV while in Africa and, after they'd been together for about a year, he dies.

In series time, it's now mid-season 11. (Mid-December, 2004.) However, there are some very significant differences between this universe and TPTB's universe. (Some differences due to the events in the previous fics themselves, some just because I chose to ignore/change certain things.)

The most obvious difference is that, of course, Luka is dead and there is no Chuck or Cosmo. (Well, Chuck exists, but he isn't with Susan anymore, and I don't anticipate him appearing in the story.)

Other differerences: There was no chopper crash, so Romano is still alive, and still ER chief. Chen is still around, (never went to China, her parents are still alive and well) as is Elizabeth. Abby never went back to med school and so is still a nurse. Kem never existed, and so, obviously, Carter never had a baby and has no plans to return to Africa. He is engaged to Sam. Sandy is still alive. (Though I don't think we'll see her.)

Oh, and like most other writers who've dealt with Dubenko, I've had to give him a first name, since TPTB haven't seen fit to do so. I chose Chris.

And, of course, I don't own ER or any of the characters contained in this fic except the occasional original one. I do own the words on the page, so please don't do anything except read or print them out for your own enjoyment without getting my permission first.

Read and enjoy

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Susan stood before the mirror and contemplated her reflection. No, too frilly. The color was ok, but the style … no. She pulled the blouse over her head and dropped it on the growing pile on the floor.

The skirt was ok, a sedate grey tweed of modest length, but she couldn't find a blouse that worked.

_You should have planned ahead, Susan. You knew you were going to be attending a funeral soon … or a memorial service, anyway. You could have bought something appropriate. Something black. _

She'd never much liked black. The only black garments she owned were a pair of jeans … and denim wouldn't do … and a certain little black dress, which was appropriate to neither the weather nor the occasion.

Susan continued to slide hangers along the rod. Maybe the green sweater? No, too tight. Showing off her figure wasn't the idea here. Besides, there was a rip in theshoulder seam. But green … maybe green would work. If nothing else she'd blend in with the people wearing scrubs. She found a blouse in a small dark green check and tried it on. Not perfect, but it would have to do.

She started to close the closet door, then paused, letting her hand brush along the other clothes hanging there. Suits, dress shirts, a rack of ties, mostly silk. Luka's things. But no, they were hers now. Everything in the apartment belonged to her.

The box had already been mailed to Tata. She'd been at the post-office bright and early this morning, taking care of this last small job. She had filled out the customs forms carefully. What was in the box? Not much, really. Some jewelry of no great value. A packet of pictures and letters. His medical school diploma, neatly framed of course. A cut glass vase, well wrapped in bubble plastic. A few other small items. Listing them on the page had been easy enough, but when it was time to put down a dollar value, she didn't know what to write. Priceless. How do you put a dollar value on memories? On grief and loss? On a father outliving his son?

Shoes, a touch of blush to lend color to her pale cheeks, a comb through the hair, and one final check in the mirror. Yeah, it would have to do. She checked her watch. Damn, past 2 o:clock.It was late. Being late definitely_ wouldn't _do. Grabbing her purse from the bed and putting on her coat, she hurried out the door.

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Susan hesitated in the doorway. She didn't want to do this. She didn't need this. Funerals were for saying good-bye, for closure. She had already said good-bye, a thousand times. She had watched him die.

This wasn't really a funeral though. She wasn't going to go to the funeral. It would be too difficult, too awkward. She would barely be able to speak to anyone there and worse, there would be too many difficult, awkward questions from those she _could _speak to. She couldn't face that. Besides, she hated funerals. If she'd had any real choice in the matter, she wouldn't even be here.

The room was packed. Familiar faces from the ER: doctors, nurses, orderlies, clerks … even some people from housekeeping were there. Nurses from the ICU, where Luka had spent too many days. Carl, from psych. Some wore hospital scrubs, obviously having come straight from work and planning to return to work as soon as this was over. Others were dressed more formally, having made a special trip. Abby was wearing black.

Jing Mei spotted her still waiting in the doorway and hurried over. "Susan!" and an embrace. "I'm sorry … I'm so, so sorry."

"Thank you," Susan said, because she had to say something. A few more awkward words and Susan managed to disengage herself. There was a table with food and drinks set up along one wall. She headed for it. She wasn't hungry, but it would give her something to do with her hands.

Sam joined her there as she was pouring herself a coke. "Nice spread, hmmm?"

"Yeah. Who set it up?"

"John arranged it, along with everything else, but Dr. Weaver insisted on paying. Said it was the least she could do."

"You mean, instead of showing up?" Kerry's face was conspicuously absent from the crowd. Not that it really mattered; Luka wouldn't have wanted her here.

"She'll be here. She has a meeting."

Susan continued to scan the room. Her initial impression had been correct; aside from Kerry, everyone from the ER _was_ here. "Hate to ask this, but who's minding the store?"

Sam grinned. "Let's just say we're all hoping nobody gets sick in the next hour or so. In the ER right now you'll find 4 medical students finishing their ER rotations before the holiday break, 3 registry nurses, 2 floats, and Dr. Brody."

"Who?"

"New doc." And suddenly Sam looked uncomfortable. "He's … pretty good. He started about 3 weeks ago, just before Thanksgiving."

Of course. Kerry and Robert would have hired on a new attending. Luka's replacement.

Just then Lydia came rushing up to them. "Oh, Susan … I'm so sorry." And for the next 20 minutes Susan coped with a steady stream of comforters, all spouting the same empty words, offering the same emotionless embraces, a few shedding the same crocodile tears.

Only Elizabeth seemed sincere, but was she truly feeling sad for Susan and Luka, or was she remembering her own loss, reliving the day, not so long ago, when she had been in this position?

Susan managed to paste a sad smile on her face, utter the required responses, return the hugs; the smile serving to mask not her grief, but her desperate wish to be someplace else … anyplace else.

This wasn't right. This was supposed to be a memorial service, the chance for Luka's co-workers and friends to remember him, talk about him, say good-bye. Instead, they were all here to comfort _her_, the grieving widow. And, like her, they were here because they had to be. Oh, a few of them were her friends … Luka's friends … but most had come because duty required it. It was etiquette. You went to funerals. You sent flowers and cards. You comforted mourners. That was just the way things worked. They could go through the motions, but they didn't have to care. And they didn't. Once they had offered the necessary words, _she_ was forgotten … Luka was forgotten. She could hear the conversations going on around her. Pratt and Jerry were talking about last night's Bull's game. Chuny was telling Lydia about her new boyfriend. Ray and Jing Mei were discussing a patient. And Abby and Neela were looking at her … whispering something to each other. They were probably talking about her, judging her. Her clothes, her behavior, her stubbornly dry eyes.

Abby was the last to approach her. Abby, dressed all in black … Susan didn't recognize the dress; she must have bought it just for the occasion. A long hug. "Oh Susan … I wish things had been different."

"You wish he was still alive? Or you wish that you were standing in my shoes?" The words came out cold, hard. The first real emotion she'd felt all day. She couldn't help remembering Abby's visit on Luka's last day at work. She'd stopped by to drop something off for Luka, but couldn't spare the time to visit for a few minutes. She could never spare the time. Abby had once been a good friend to Luka, and to her, but no more. And now she had the nerve to show up in black, her eyes red with crying.

"No. I wish I'd been there more, that we'd gotten off to a better start when he first came home. That I'd been a better friend."

"Too bad you didn't think about that a year ago, even six months ago, when it might have done Luka some good."

Abby looked stricken, seemed to be searching for something more to say. Fresh tears, honest tears of grief filled her eyes … the tears that Susan seemed unable to cry. How dare she?

And her own voice came back to her. _Nobody gives a damn if you cried. You were scared and in pain; of course you cried._ She was scared and in pain. So why couldn't she cry?

Abby had turned away, disappeared into the crowd. Susan looked towards the door, wishing again that she could slip through it and disappear. Would anyone miss her? She'd done her part in this ridiculous charade. But just then Carter's voice, amplified by the microphone, filled the room.

"If everyone would just take a seat?"

Susan made her way towards the front … that's where she would be expected to sit … and at least there, no-one would be able to look at her face. En-route, someone touched her arm. It was Kerry. All the usual words and then, "Take as much time as you need, Susan. There's no hurry for you to come back to work."

"I'll keep that in mind." Susan said. Of course there was no hurry. Susan would only remind her of Luka …and Kerry wouldn't want to be reminded, nobody would.

Sitting down, Susan took a deep breath and closed her eyes. After a moment she felt someone take her hand. Sam. She opened her eyes and started to smile a thank you, but found her eyes drawn to Sam's hand. To the engagement ring that sparkled there. A 2 carat diamond in a platinum set. No-one could accuse Carter of being cheap. Susan remembered the day last fall when Sam had come into work wearing the ring. Along with everyone else, Susan had oohed and ahhed over the ring. She was happy for Sam, happy for Carter. In a few months Sam would be wearing a second ring, a wedding band. Susan didn't have a ring, Luka wouldn't give her one. _You'd only be a widow in six months, Susan. I've been there, it's not a role I recommend. _No, Susan didn't have a ring, but Luka did. The last thing he'd ever asked of her … not that he'd ever asked much. _Would you see that I'm wearing it?_ The ring Danijela had put on his hand nearly two decades before. She had put it on his finger … and had felt just a hint of mean gladness that it didn't fit anymore. His hand was too thin now.

Carter's voice startled her from her thoughts.

"Thank you all for coming today. This is a place we've all known for a long time we would eventually be in. Though we all expected … all hoped … it wouldn't be quite this soon.

Carter. He had been a true friend, along with Sam the only real friend they'd had these last few months. He had saved Luka's life in Africa, risking his own life to find him and bring him to safety, then send him home to her. (Though of course he hadn't known that part yet … nobody had.) He had come home from Africa himself just days after they'd gotten the terrible diagnosis, and had stood by him … by both of them, ever since. He'd offered to arrange the service, give the eulogy. And, most important, he had just been there.

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She'd called him after Luka died. She hadn't wanted to be alone and there was nobody else she could call.

Barely 20 minutes after she'd hung up the phone, the doorbell rang. He'd embraced her, one friend to another. They had dated once … briefly. It had been a disaster, but they'd slipped back into simple friendship so easily. He didn't say anything now; there was nothing to be said.

In the bedroom he looked at Luka for a few minutes, saying his own final good-byes. Susan just sat on the bed, head bowed.

"It was peaceful?" he finally asked.

"Yeah. He just … stopped breathing."

"Good. I'm glad. You called Marty?"

"He'll be here in a couple of hours. He has patients. I told him there was no rush."

"What about his father?"

"Not yet. I umm… he doesn't speak much English. I need to find someone to translate for me. I called St. Matthew's … it's a Croatian church on the west side. No-one was there, but I left a message for the priest to call me. There's no real rush for that either. It's the middle of the night in Zagreb. I'll try to call early tomorrow … it will be late afternoon there. I haven't called the funeral home yet either. They can't take him …" her voice broke … "until Marty comes. Does work know?"

"Yeah, they do. I had to tell Frank I was leaving, and why. Which guarantees that the whole hospital will know within the hour."

Susan smiled a little. That was true. Frank wouldn't quite announce it over the PA, but the results would be the same as if he had.

"Look," Carter went on after a minute. "There's really nothing else you can do until Marty comes or the priest calls back. Why don't you try and get some sleep?"

Susan shook her head. "I already slept. I didn't call you right away because I fell asleep. I think I slept a couple of hours. I'll be ok for a while." She pushed her hair back from her forehead and made a face. "What I really need is a shower. I must look like hell."

"Just a little."

"Get me out of the bathroom if anyone calls, or the doorbell rings."

"I'll manage." Carter smiled at her. "Go!"

The hot water felt wonderful. Susan let it just flow over her neck and shoulders for a long time. Let it flow over her face like tears. After about half an hour, over the sound of the water she heard the doorbell, and then Carter calling, "I'll get it!" Surely it couldn't be Marty already. Quickly rinsing the shampoo from her hair Susan turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. As she started to towel her hair dry she suddenly realized that she'd absently used Luka's shampoo instead of her own. Her hair wouldn't smell like lavender today. It would smell like Luka's hair … one more thing to remind her.

She pulled on her clothes and stepped out of the bathroom, and was surprised to see Sam sitting on the bed.

"Sam!" She shook her head. "You didn't have to come."

"I know I didn't have to. I wanted to." Sam rose to give her a hug. "He loved you very much, Susan. He deserved better than this. You both did."

Sam glanced over at Carter and Susan saw a look in her eye … a look she knew well. She'd seen it in Luka's eyes. And a wave of jealousy washed over her, sending tears to prick at her eyelids. Tears she quickly blinked away.

It wasn't fair. She and Luka did deserve more. They deserved what Sam and Carter had. Their whole lives ahead of them … a future … a chance to look forward to a life together. That was something she and Luka had never had.

How many evenings had the four of them sat in their living room talking about wedding plans? Life plans. She and Sam would sip white wine and page through bridal magazines together, while Luka and Carter chatted about house-hunting over glasses of ginger ale. She hadn't been jealous then. She had found only pleasure in seeing her friends so happy, had been happy herself in the knowledge that she and Luka were together for at least another day.

But now … it just wasn't fair.

"Have you eaten anything today?" Sam asked.

Today … God … what was today? "I don't think so. I'm not hungry."

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Marty had been and gone. "I'm sorry. I wish I could have done more," were his parting words. The priest had called back and arranged to come by early tomorrow. And now the funeral home was here, and Susan still wasn't ready.

They had been waiting for 20 minutes while Susan still sat on the bed. This was it. They would take him, and it would be over. She wouldn't see him buried. This was good-bye. Susan didn't touch him. He was cold now, too obviously dead. But if she just looked at him, she could try to pretend he was sleeping … they still had more time … just a few more minutes.

"Susan," Sam said quietly. "Come on. Let's let them do their job." And Susan didn't resist as Sam gently pulled her to her feet and guided her from the room. She didn't look back. In the kitchen, Sam sat her down at the counter and put a plate of food in front of her.

Susan picked up the fork automatically and began to eat. She didn't really taste it; she didn't really hear Sam's quiet conversation … small talk now, intended to distract her from what was happening. She was in a shell now, a cocoon … not feeling anything. She couldn't' bear to feel anything. Until the front door opened and, a moment later, closed again. The sound of it … like dirt hitting a casket … penetrated the cocoon. A soft cry slipped out and Susan jumped, and the fork clattered onto the plate. Then, after a moment, she picked up the fork again and went on eating.

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A gentle squeeze to her hand pulled Susan back to the present. Sam was looking at her, a bit anxiously. How long had she been sitting there lost in thought? Carter was still talking. She should be more attentive. She was being rude.

He was talking about Africa now, telling about the time he and Luka had spent there. Glancing around her Susan saw shock on a dozen faces. They'd had no idea what had happened to Luka in Africa. This was all new to them. Though, truthfully, they still had no idea, not really. Carter skipped over the worst of Luka's experiences. Even now Carter wouldn't break confidence, would never tell them the things that Luka hadn't wanted anyone to know. Only the two of them, and perhaps Carl, would ever know the whole story.

Suddenly from the back of the room came a rustling sound, murmuring voices. "Pardon me … excuse me please …" Turning around, Susan saw Dr. Dubenko making his way through the crowd. She didn't really know him. He'd joined the staff just a few weeks before she'd left work to spend Luka's last weeks with him at home. Of course he hadn't attended the service. He'd barely known her, and hadn't known Luka at all. And someone had to cover the OR. Most of the other surgeons were sitting in the room already. He approached Elizabeth, who was sitting just behind her.

"Elizabeth," he said in a loud whisper. "You're needed in the OR. Two victim MVA, both being redlined to surgery."

"I'll be right there, Chris," Elizabeth whispered back. "But why didn't you just page me? I would have come right down."

"I didn't want to disturb the service by beeping you. It would have been rude."

And a wave of muffled snickers through the room … even Susan had to smile. A smile she quickly hid away as Dubenko approached her seat. took her hands in both of his.

"Dr. Lewis, let me offer you my deepest sympathies. I never had the chance to know Dr. Kovac, but I've heard nothing but good things about him."

"Thank you," Susan said, but his words had struck her with an odd coldness. Deepest sympathies indeed. His voice was sincere, but the words were meaningless. Why on earth would he sympathize? Why should he care about the death of a man he'd never known? Why should he care about her? He squeezed her hand for a moment longerand then hurried out.

Elizabeth leaned over the back of her seat and whispered, "I have to go, Susan. I'm sorry."

"I know. I'm glad you were able to come."

"If you ever want to talk … let me know."

"I will. Thanks."

Susan suddenly realized that there was something _in_ her hand. She looked down and saw a square of white cloth … a handkerchief. God … what was he trying to prove? Empty words, empty comfort, and an empty gesture. She wasn't crying, why had he offered her a handkerchief?

Carter waited until Elizabeth had gone and the room was quiet again before continuing. "Every one of us in this room has chosen to devote our lives to medicine, to helping others. But it takes a very special person to willingly risk his life for others … sacrifice his life. Luka was one of those rare, special people, and that's how I know he'll be remembered by all of us – for his dedication to his patients and his unshakable courage." He paused and looked around the room. "Does anyone have anything they'd like to add? Any special memories? Thoughts? Susan heard only silence behind her. Nobody had anything more to say. Luka had already been forgotten. "Ok then," Carter said. "Thank you all for coming."

People began to move again, and the room was suddenly loud with the buzz of conversations. And Susan knew that people would be approaching her again with questions … more empty condolences. Grabbing her purse, she rose and started towards the door.

"Susan?" called Sam.

"I have to use the ladies room," Susuan managed to choke out, and pushed her way through the crowds and out into the hall. The bathroom was just across the hall. But no … other people would probably be in there, or they'd come in in a moment or two. The sign on the next door said "Supply." Susan tried the door, it wasn't locked. Stepping inside she quickly pulled the door shut behind her, plunging the windowless cubical into darkness, but that didn't matter. She didn't need to see. Sinking to the ground she let the tears take her again, let the sobs shake her body. She cried for what felt like hours. When the worst of the flood seemed to be over, she began to open her purse to find a tissue. What was in her hand? She was still holding Dr. Dubenko's offering. Perhaps the gesture hadn't been so empty. Almost laughing a little now through her tears, she put it to good use.


	2. Chapter 2

Susan dropped her purse on the floor, tossed the mail on the table, and sank onto the couch. She didn't bother to take off her coat.

The apartment felt very quiet – too quiet. She could hear her own breathing, her own heart beat.

_Get used to it, Susan. This is the way things will be from now on._

She should _be_ used to it. She'd lived alone most of her life. She had moved out of her parents' apartment at 18, and into the smallest studio apartment she'd ever lived in – the smallest she'd ever seen. And for the next 20 years she had lived alone most of the time. There had been a few weeks when fellow med student Jane Pratt had camped out on her sofa while she was between apartments. There had been the year with Chloe and Suzie … and just Suzie. And there had been two disastrous months cohabiting with Dix in Scottsdale; an experiment that had proved to both of them that the relationship was over. After her return to Chicago she'd lived alone again for two years. She'd _liked_ living alone, being her own boss, making her own schedule.

But now she was just alone. Painfully so.

Carter and Sam had offered to come home with her after the service, but she'd refused. They'd done enough. They had their own lives to live, their own grieving to do. And she had to move on, get used to her own new life. Get used to the silence.

It was getting late. Mid-December; it got dark early. She should start thinking about dinner. She should look through the mail, check the messages on the phone. But she didn't do anything. She just sat, staring into the thickening darkness, not thinking, not feeling. There were, she realized, only two choices, unbearable pain or empty numbness. Numbness was better.

The phone rang, making Susan jump a little, but she didn't move. The machine could pick it up. Three rings, a click – and Luka's voice on the outgoing message. "Hi, we're not home right now. Leave a message at the tone. If it's urgent, you already know our beeper numbers."

After the tone came another voice, not quite so familiar. "Susan, it's your father. I thought you'd be home by now. Just call me when you get in … I thought maybe you'd want to come over for supper. I'm just ordering pizza. Anyway … let me know."

Susan didn't move to pick it up and, after another few seconds, Henry hung up. It was good of him to call. He could at least think he knew what she was feeling. He was alone too, since Cookie had died a few years before. But they really had nothing to say to each other, even now. Susan couldn't remember ever having had a conversation with him that lasted more than five minutes. He would say, again, how sorry he was, and then they would eat their pizza in silence.

But God … she had to change the outgoing message on the machine. Or maybe not. Maybe she'd leave it, hear Luka's voice in the silence. She'd decide later.

After a minute Susan picked up the phone and dialed.

"ER."

"Hi, Jerry. It's Dr. Lewis. Can you tell Romano and Weaver that I'll be in tomorrow morning, and ask them to put me back on the schedule?"

"You don't need to do that, Dr. Lewis. We're fine for doctors for the next few weeks."

"I know, but I'm ok. I'd rather be working." And before Jerry could protest further, she hung up.

A deep breath then she rose and went to hang up her coat, switched on the light. Water to boil for pasta, open a jar of Prego, pour a glass of wine. Sipping the wine she sat down to look through the mail. Junk, the water bill, a reminder notice for an oil change for her car, an insurance statement, and three cards. They might have been sympathy cards, or Christmas cards. Susan put them aside. She'd open them later.

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Susan hesitated only a moment before pushing open the glass doors and walking into the busy ER. This was where she belonged. This was home.

Head down, she hurried past admit and made it into the lounge without anyone speaking to her. At first she thought the lounge was empty,but then she saw Kerry sitting at the table. She wore a lab coat and stethoscope, she was obviously planning to work an ER shift today. Susan should have thought to ask Jerry last night who else was working today. She'd hoped it wouldn't be Dr. Broadway … or whatever his name was, but it hadn't occurred to her that Kerry might be working.

"Good morning, Kerry." Good, her voice sounded natural.

"What are you doing here?"

"Working. Didn't Jerry give you my message?"

"Yes, he did. And I tried to call you several times last night. I left three messages on your machine."

"Sorry. I turned off the phone last night. I went to bed early, I needed the sleep. And I guess I didn't check my messages this morning." Not really a lie. She _had_ turned off the phone, and she had gone to bed early. But she hadn't slept much.

"Well," said Kerry, "what I'd wanted to tell you is that you don't need to rush this. We're managing just fine. Take a few weeks; don't come back until you're ready."

"I _am_ ready Kerry. Look … I can sit at home and feel sorry for myself, or I can come to work and keep myself busy. I'd rather be working. And it's Christmas; I'm sure you're shorthanded with most of the medical students gone for the holiday and a lot of staff taking, or at least wanting to take a few days off. They can do that now. _And_ for what it's worth, I can't afford to be sitting home any more. I'm out of paid time-off of every stripe."

"Just don't push yourself, ok?"

"I'll be fine." Susan shut her locker. "And since I'm here now, _you_ don't have to be here today. Go up to your office and do important paperwork, or go to meetings … or go home and play with little Henry."

"I'll stay," Kerry said. "As you pointed out, we are a bit short-handed these days. I'm the only other attending on today."

"Fine. Whatever." Susan started for the door, but, moving remarkably quickly for a woman with a bad leg and a crutch, Kerry suddenly rose and moved to block her path.

"Susan."

"Yes?"

"I know that Luka was angry with me … when I … on his last day at work. It wasn't an easy decision for me to make, but I had no choice. Physically, he just wasn't able to do the job anymore, and I'm sure you both knew that. But I think, in the long run, it was really for the best. As John said yesterday in his lovely eulogy, I don't think any of us expected the end to come quite this soon. And this way you got to spend those last few weeks together."

"Right." Susan pushed past Kerry and out into the hall, then leaned against the wall and tried to swallow the lump in her throat. _For the best?_ Kerry didn't have a clue. She had worked with Luka for five and a half years, and didn't know the man at all! How often had Luka said, to her _and_ to Kerry that his work was his entire life. _When I can't work anymore, I won't have anything to live for. _Kerry had fired him, he'd lost the most important thing in his life … and he'd given up. And he had died.

But she couldn't tell Kerry that. If she hadn't believed it, hearing it from Luka, why would she believe it from Susan? How could a person who was so empathetic and understanding with her patients be so blind when it came to understanding her staff?

Squaring her shoulders and wiping any tell-tale hint of tears from her eyes, Susan headed for the desk.


	3. Chapter 3

"What do you have for me, Jerry?" Susan asked, approaching the desk.

"Not much, Dr. Lewis. An ear ache, 3 cases of the flu, menstrual cramps."

"Let me guess. Weaver told you to go easy on me."

Jerry gave an embarrassed smile. "Not in so many words … but yeah."

"Well, you can take off the kid gloves. I'm really ok. I can handle real medical cases. Real sick people even."

"If we had any I'd give them to you. But therejust isn't much this morning. Night shift cleared out all the urgent cases. You're left with the dregs."

Susan sighed and took the first chart in the rack. The dregs indeed. Cough, fever, body aches. The flu.

She pushed open the door to exam 2. "Good morning, Mrs. Franklin. I'm Dr. Lewis. I'm understand you're not feeling well today."

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"Rest, drink plenty of clear fluids, and take Tylenol for pain and fever, Mr. Woo. Come back if you aren't feeling better in a week or if the cough gets significantly worse."

Susan made her way back to the desk. "If I could discover a cure for the flu I'd be a rich woman, Jerry. Six patients in the past two hours … five of them healthy adults with influenza."

Jerry smiled and handed her a chart. "Yosh just sent this one back from triage. A real sick person. Fever and abdominal pain. I think Yosh is thinking appy."

"Thanks, Jerry." Susan took the chart and glanced over it. Appies weren't especially exciting, but at least they were something she – or the hospital anyway – could actually treat. Telling patients to go home and take Tylenol was not why she'd gone into medicine.

Heading into the exam room she found a 13 year old girl lying on the bed, while her anxious looking mother paced the room.

"Hello Angela. I'm Dr. Lewis. I hear you have a belly ache."

"Yeah."

Lydia looked up from taking Angela's vitals. "Temp 101, pulse 120, resps 15, bp 100 over 70."

"When did the pain start, Angela?"

"This morning. The first day of Christmas vacation." Angela pouted a little.

"It always seems to work out that way, doesn't it?" said Susan with a smile.

"Can you give her something for the pain?" asked the mom.

"Not just yet. I need to examine her first, and we'll probably want to have a surgeon check her over as well."

"If you can just give her something to make her feel better we can leave."

"What's the hurry?"

"We have tickets to Aspen. We're supposed to leave for the airport in 2 hours!"

"You may want to call the airline and change those tickets." Susan returned her attention to her patient, sitting her up to listen to her heart and breathing. "Any nausea or vomiting?"

"Yeah. I threw up right after breakfast," Angela said.

"Your periods been ok?"

"Uh huh."

Susan motioned for Angela to lie down again, then pressed gently on her stomach, searching for tender spots. "Tell me if I hurt you," she started to say, but a cry of pain from Angela made the instructions redundant. "Ok, Angela, you just take it easy for a few minutes. Lydia, lets get a CBC and call upstairs for a surgical consult."

"I need an operation?" Angela whispered.

"I don't know. We'll have to see what the surgeon says." Susan made a few notes on the chart. "I'll be back in a few minutes. Lydia, page me when surgery shows."

"I hope it's soon," grumbled the mother, looking at her watch.

Ten minutes later Susan was sitting at the desk charting when the elevator doors opened and Dr. Dubenko stepped out. "You paged me, Dr. Lewis?"

"Yeah, exam 1. Thirteen year old girl with a probable hot appy."

As they started towards the exam room together Dubenko said, "I was surprised to get a page from you. I didn't expect you back at work so soon."

Susan sighed. She'd been asked that question a dozen times today. Though, beyond that, no-one had had much of anything to say to her. "Maybe I need to pin a sign to my coat. 'I'm fine. Really.' Because I am. I'd much rather be back at work than moping around at home. Oh, I'll return your handkerchief to you later in the week. I need to wash it first."

"I'm glad you found it useful, but you can keep it. I have a whole box full at home."

What a strange man, Susan couldn't help thinking. Did anyone actually use cloth handkerchiefs in the 21st century? God had invented tissues for a reason.

He pushed open the door to the exam room. "Do we have labs yet?"

"No, but it's a classic presentation; fever, nausea, lower right quadrant pain with rebound tenderness.

Dubenko smiled at Angela. "Hi, I'm Dr. Dubenko. Let's check out that belly of yours."

"Are you a surgeon?"

Dubenko lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Don't tell anyone, but actually I'm the janitor. They just let me operate when the real surgeons are on vacation."

Angela giggled – a giggle that turned into another yelp of pain as he pressed on her stomach. "Do you have to keep doing that? It hurts!"

"Sorry. It's the fastest and easiest way to tell if your appendix is inflamed. But the good news is that I only have to do it once."

"So … is it?"

"Very much so. Which is the bad news."

"So I need an operation? I'll be spending Christmas in the hospital?"

"I think we'll have you home before Christmas."

Angela's mother piped up again. "I don't suppose it could wait?"

"An hour or two, certainly," Dubenko said. "I'd like to wait for her labs to come back before I operate. If the blood test is uncertain, we may want to do a CT to confirm it."

"I was thinking more like a week. If you could just give her something for the pain and nausea, we could come back next week."

Dubenko sighed. "Appendicitis is an emergency, Mrs. Grey. If we don't operate within afew hours, the appendix will rupture, and your daughter will be very, very sick. If we operate today, she'll be feeling a lot better in a couple of days, and, as I told her, will probably be home for Christmas."

"There goes our vacation," Mrs. Grey grumbled.

"She'll only be in the hospital for a few days," Dubenko started to explain again, but Susan interrupted.

"They have tickets to Aspen this afternoon."

"Well, I suggest you reschedule. I hear late January is a good time to go." He made some notes on the chart and handed it to Mrs. Grey. "I'll need you to sign this consent form, Mrs. Grey. Dr. Lewis, I'll go hold an OR. Call me when her labs come back. Do we have an ETA?"

"The lab's not busy," Lydia said. "They said it would be about half an hour … and that was 15 minutes ago."

"Good." Mrs. Grey had signed the consent with an angry scrawl, and he took the chart back.

"Will you be operating on me?" asked Angela.

"Absolutely. Only the best for you."

Angela smiled a little through her pain and Susan and Dubenko went back out into the hall. Before the door had closed behind them Mrs. Grey's angry voice erupted.

"You picked a hell of a time to get sick! Those tickets aren't refundable. We saved all year for this trip!"

Susan shook her head. "Charming woman."

"You want to go back in and talk some sense into her?"

"No, Lydia will handle it. She's good at putting idiots in their places." She smiled. "You were really good with that little girl."

"Better than her mother, anyway."

"The Wicked Witch of the West would be better than her mother. Thanks for coming down."

"My pleasure … not to mention my job."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Angela was sent up to the OR, and the morning continued to crawl by as Susan struggled to stay busy with the slow trickle of boring cases. Several times Kerry encouraged her to go home. "It's really slow Susan. We can manage with just one attending for the rest of the day. There's no need for you to push yourself."

"You can go, Kerry. I'm sure you've been working a lot of shifts lately. Take the afternoon off yourself. Go do your Christmas shopping."

"Naw. As soon as I leave we'll probably get a six car pile-up." Kerry picked up another chart and headed down the hall.

Susan had just dispo'd her ninth flu patient of the day when the ambulance bay doors flew open. "Can I get a hand here!"

"Got it!" Susan yelled, and ran to the moving gurney. The paramedic rattled off the bullet.

"Meet Ralph Ison, age 43. Probable MI. Sudden onset of chest pain while shoveling the driveway. BP 180 over 120, tachy at 130, resps 20, no LOC. Pain initially 9 out of 10, down to 7 out of 10 after two nitro sprays."

"Ok," Susan said. "Trauma 2. Lets get a 12 lead, CBC, coag and cardiac enzymes, portable chest. Mr. Ison, do you have any history of heart trouble?"

"No. I'm real healthy. I work out three days a week."

"High blood pressure?"

"No. But it hurts like hell, doc!"

"We'll get you something for it as soon as we can."

"And please … call my wife. She's at work. Sandberg Junior High up in Rogers Park."

"I thought school was out for vacation."

"Not for the teachers. She teaches music."

The door opened as they were transferring Mr. Ison from the gurney. Kerry again. "Susan, why I don't I take this one. There's a sprained ankle in curtain 3."

"I've got this one, Kerry." She looked Kerry steadily in the eyes for a long moment, and Kerry finally turned and disappeared down the hall.

"What was all that about?" asked Ralph.

"I've been off for a couple of weeks. But don't worry, Mr. Ison, I haven't forgotten everything I know."

"Vacation? Must be nice."

"It was." The EKG machine began spitting out its strip, and Susan picked it up to look at it, to avoid looking at Haleh's surprised face. What the hell was she supposed to have said? _No, not a vacation. I just spent a month watching the love of my life die a slow and horrible death._

The pattern on the strip was unmistakable. He was having an MI. "Ok, let's get Mr. Ison an asprin."

"Aspirin? I think this pain needs more than an aspirin."

Susan had to laugh. "The aspirin is for your heart, Mr. Ison. For the pain we'll titrate 5 of morphine."

"So, it's a heart attack?"

"I'm afraid so, but you're in luck, because County has one of the best cardiac units in the city. Haleh, please call the cath lab, tell them we'll be sending up a client shortly. And somebody please call Mr. Ison's wife."

"The number's in my …" Mr. Ison's voice suddenly fell silent, just as the steady beeping from the monitor was drowned out by the angry buzzing of an alarm.

"V-fib!" said Haleh, already opening the crash cart and getting the paddles ready. She handed them to Susan.

"Charge to 200," said Susan. "Clear." Nothing. "300! Come on Ralph, you are not going to die!"

"Should I get Dr. Weaver?" asked Haleh.

"No!" No way was she going to work with Kerry today. "But find a resident. We need more hands in here." Conni ran out, returning a moment later with Ray. "Ray, tube him. Conni, start another line. And somebody call his wife!"

………………………………………………….

"Ok … another amp of epi … Damn it Ralph, do your part here … you have a wife who needs you! 360 again."

She heard the door open but didn't look up. Kerry's voice. "Need a hand here?"

"No, I've got it under control. Again, 360."

"How long has he been down?" asked Kerry quietly.

"Only about 5 minutes."

"It's been almost 35 minutes, Dr. Weaver," said Haleh. Startled, Susan looked up at the clock. Had it really been that long?

"Ok, Susan. You're done."

Susan shook her head. "360, Haleh. And more dopamine. Kerry, we got him back once … there's still a chance. If we can just keep him going long enough to get him to the cath lab …."

"Look at the monitor, Susan. He's in asystole. He's not coming back." Kerry's voice was gentle but firm.

Susan looked at the monitor, just for a second, then back at her patient. She wouldn't look at Kerry. "Dopamine! And don't bag so fast, Ray."

"Call it, Susan."

"He's my patient. I'll decide when we're done!" Susan looked at Kerry and regretted it. She could read Kerry's thoughts much too clearly in her eyes, on her face. _Poor Susan. She can't face up to her loss. She can't accept that Luka's gone, that he's not coming back. So she's going to flog this poor man for an hour, unable to accept that she can't bring him back either. Poor Susan. Poor, poor Susan._

She quickly looked away again. Kerry was wrong. This wasn't the first time she had tried extra hard for a patient. They had all done it, trying long past the time when there could be a miracle. She had done it often enough. So had Kerry. And so had Luka. And, once or twice, there had been a miracle. There could be one today.

"One more time, Haleh. 360." Another shock, and she looked at the monitor again. Asystole. No doubt about it. Very slowly she set the paddles down on the cart. "Ok, that's it. Time of death … 1325. Is his wife here yet?"

"Not last I checked," said Conni. "Roads are pretty bad."

"Find me when she gets here."

"I can tell her, Susan," Kerry said.

"He's my patient," Susan snapped again. I can do it. I'll be in the lounge." And for the second time that day she pushed past Kerry and out into the hall.

In the lounge she poured herself some coffee and sat on the couch. Was Kerry right? Had she lost her perspective? Was she really not ready to come back? Not ready to deal with critically ill patients? No, she was fine. She had done all that for her patient, and for his wife, not for herself. She felt no pain, no grief. She felt nothing at all. Which was just as it should be, just as it had to be.As long as she could go on feeling nothing, as long as she could keep a smiling mask on for the benefit of the patients, she'd do fine. She could do her job; get through the days, one at a time. Getting through the nights would be another matter.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It had been an incredibly long day, but Susan wasn't glad it was over. The end of the work day meant going home to her empty apartment again. Eating her supper alone. Lying in her bed alone, trying to sleep, counting the minutes until morning.

She was on her way back to the lounge for her coat when she almost bumped into Dubenko coming around the corner.

"You're through for the day?" he asked her.

"Yeah. I just need to get my coat and I'm out of here. How'd surgery go on the appy girl?"

"Like clock-work. In and out in about 20 minutes. I just checked on her. She's sleeping, her mom's on the phone with the travel agent."

Susan smiled and was about to say, 'Well, I'll see you tomorrow,' but Dubenko continued. "I guess you had a pretty rough day."

"It's always hard getting back into the swing after being off for a few weeks. I'm ok."

"I heard about your MI. I'm sorry. It must have been hard."

"It's always hard losing a patient."

"You look tired."

"I just worked for 12 hours." Susan looked towards the lounge. How long was he going to keep her here talking?

"Are you sleeping ok?"

"Eight hours every night." Susan looked pointedly at her watch, but he still didn't take the hint.

"Is that eight hours sleeping, or eight hours lying in bed? I know that it can be hard to adjust to sleeping alone …."

Susan shook her head, baffled. "Dr. Dubenko, if you are propositioning me, it's in amazingly bad taste."

"No … I didn't mean that," Dubenko said quickly. " And please, call me Chris. May I call you Susan? Good. There was a fascinatingarticle in the _Journal of Clinical Psychiatry_ a few months ago. July, I think. It was about grieving and adjustment in young widows. The authors found that sleep issues were common, a large percentage of subjects in the study reported difficulties in adjusting to sleeping alone. If you'd like to see a copy of the article …"

"I don't think so," Susan said briskly. "And I'm not a widow, so it doesn't apply to me anyway. I'm sleeping just fine. I need to get going, Chris. I'll see you tomorrow." Before he could say anything more, she turned and hurried into the lounge.


	4. Chapter 4

Susan sank down onto the couch with a sigh. The first day back at work was always hard, she knew that. She was tired … not that that was a particularly bad thing. If she was tired enough, she might actually sleep tonight.

Supper first, then sleep. She didn't really feel like cooking though. Maybe she'd send out for something. _It's part of living alone. Easier to eat out, or send out for something, than to cook for yourself all the time. Less depressing, certainly. _No, nothing could make this less depressing.

Maybe she'd call Carter and Sam, see if they wanted to split a pizza. She shouldn't, she really shouldn't. She'd promised herself that she wouldn't lean on them so hard. But she couldn't avoid facing the uncomfortable realization that there wasn't anyone else. She'd never had a lot of friends. And during the past year she had let most of the friendships she had fade away. She'd been so wrapped up in Luka that she had ignored almost everyone else. She hadn't bothered to stay in touch with anyone in her old apartment building. Her work-related friendships had faded into purely professional relationships. She hadn't exactly burned her bridges, but they'd mostly collapsed from simple neglect. Well, except for Abby. That bridge had been well and truly dynamited.

Susan reached for the phone then saw the numbers flashing on the answering machine. She had 9 messages. She might as well listen to them, one or two might be important. She hit the playback button.

_Hi Susan, it's Elizabeth. Please let me know if there's anything I can do. _BEEP.

_Susan, it's Father McLaughlan. I read it in this morning's paper. I'm so sorry … remember that you can always call me if you want to talk, or if you need anything at all. You will both be in my prayers. _BEEP

_Hi Susan. It's Chuck. I just heard. Dr. Weaver asked me to come to the memorial service this afternoon, but I don't feel right about going. I hope you understand. I really am sorry. But if there's anything I can do ..._BEEP

_Susan, it's your father …_ BEEP

_Susan, it's Kerry. Jerry told me … _BEEP

_Susan, it's Kerry again. Please … _BEEP

_Susan, it's Ke …_BEEP

_Hello, Susan. _An accented voice. _This is Gordana Horvat. I'm an old friend of Luka's. You may remember me … we met a few years ago. When Luka's father called to tell me, I was … it was quite a shock. Everyone here is still in shock, I think. I just spoke to Luka a few months ago. He sounded quite well then. I had hoped I would see you at the funeral. Please call me, Susan. I would like to … _BEEP

_Susan, it's John. Look … we've decided to go away for a few days. Sam and I both have the week off. We were going to just spend it at home with Alex, but we decided to go to St. Barts for the holiday. My family has a villa there. I'll have my cell phone if you need anything. But I think we just need to get away, be a family for a while. We're flying out early tomorrow morning; we'll be back on the 31st. _BEEP.

Well, one dilemma solved. They would be busy packing, getting ready to go.

Susan hit the 'delete messages' button and waited for the digital voice to announce "all old messages deleted." There was nothing really important there, except for John's message. The rest … nothing that mattered. What exactly could anyone do? They couldn't bring Luka back. Nothing else mattered. A deep breath, then she picked up the phone and dialed. "I'd like to order a pizza to be delivered. Medium deep-dish pepperoni, bread sticks, large diet coke."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"May I join you?"

Susan looked up in surprise from her magazine. Dr. Dubenko was standing across the table from her, holding a lunch tray.

"Sure…"

"If you'd rather be alone, or if you're busy …"

"No, please sit down." Susan closed her magazine and managed a smile.

Chris set his tray down and sat across from her. "What are you reading?"

Susan showed him the cover. "People. I stole it from the waiting room." Anything, even 3 month old gossip magazines to fill the empiness. She'd been eating lunch alone every day since she'd come back to work. John and Sam were still in St. Barts. No-one asked her to eat with them, and she felt unable to ask. They all walked on eggshells around her; they graced her with sad little smiles, they made empty small-talk. But they mostly just left her alone.

Chris didn't reply, just began to eat his own lunch. And Susan almost sighed. She would be eating lunch alone yet again. She cast about for something to say. "So, you read psych journals?"

"What?"

"The other day you mentioned an article in a psych journal."

"Yes, I subscribe to several, actually. Psychology, psychiatry, family counseling."

"Isn't that rather far afield for a surgeon?"

"Not at all. I think it's important to be aware of the psychological needs of the patient. It's so easy for physicians, especially surgeons, to lose sight of the fact that our patients aren't just bodies … just diseases to be treated and injuries to be repaired." Chris put down his fork, leaned a little bit across the table. This was obviously a subject he felt passionate about. "Every patient has emotions that are affected by their illness and that, in turn, affect their illness and their recovery. And it's important that we connect with those feelings, understand them. Buthow often do we, as doctors, take the time toreally talk to our patients? How often do we really listen to them? How much time do we devote to talking to the families?"

"In the ER we don't usually have the luxury for that sort of thing."

"Treat 'em and street 'em?"

"That's the idea."

"But it shouldn't be. Time shouldn't be viewed as a luxury. It should be part of the package, part of what we offer our patients as physicians, as healers." Chris paused and took a drink from his glass. "So, how are you doing?"

The sudden change of subject caught Susan by surprise. And she was even more surprised by her own response. The sincerity in his voice, the honest concern in his eyes drew a different answer from her than the usual 'I'm fine. Really.' "I'm ok … as well as can be expected, I guess. It's hard. But it wasn't exactly unexpected. Luka had been sick for a long time. He was ready."

"But you weren't." It wasn't a question.

Susan could only shake her head.

"How did he die?" Chris asked after a moment.

"Aids."

"I knew that." A quick smile. "I'm not completely isolated from ER gossip. But what was the immediate cause of death?"

Susan wasn't sure what to say. Why was he even asking such a question? Concern? Medical interest? Morbid curiosity? What answer to give? He gave up on living? Dehydration? The death certificate said 'subdural bleed', but that was no more than a best guess. It hadn't really mattered.

Chris was still looking at her expectantly; waiting for … expecting an answer. "Ummm… infection."

"You don't know what kind?"

"No. We would have had to come back to the hospital; blood draws and tests. Luka … didn't want that. There wasn't much anyone could do for him anymore. But he knew that if he did go back into the hospital they would insist on treating him … talk him into things he didn't want …" Susan trailed off, looked down at her plate. Chris didn't need to be hearing all this. He'd never known Luka, he barely knew her. He certainly didn't need to hear Luka's entire life history – as short as it might be.

"He had an advance directive, didn't he?"

"Yeah. But as we like to say down in the ER 'do not resuscitate doesn't mean do not treat.'"

"I've always found it fascinating that doctors deal so badly with death. We see it every day, we should handle it well, be comfortable with it. But we're not. We go into medical school believing that it will be our job … our duty … our privilege, to save lives. And that becomes our focus. So when we can't save a life we take it as a personal failure … that we weren't good enough. We can't accept that death is a normal and natural part of life. When death wins, it means we have lost. Every extra day, every hour, every minute we can gain for a patient is seen as a personal victory for us. And an advance directive, a DNR order … that takes away some part of our power to save … to cheat the enemy out of another victory."

Again Susan could see the fire in his eyes as he warmed to his subject; his lunch forgotten, eavesdroppers at near-by tables ignored. "And then, if … when … a patient does die, we aren't allowed to feel it, are we? We're told to maintain our professional distance. So we can't feel angry about our failure. And we can't empathize … we can't even sympathize with the families. Instead, we all have our little scripts that we rattle off; 'Your child/husband/mother/whatever was brought in with severe injuries. Everything possible was done but we were unable to save him and he died. I'm sorry.' I've probably said that speech a thousand times or more. We all have. But we aren't allowed to actually feel it. They're just words, aren't they? We aren't allowed to sit down with a grieving relative, cry with her, feel some part of her pain, or our own. A really fascinating dichotomy, isn't it? On the one hand, we're expected to give our all to win this particular fight. But then, when we lose, we're expected to immediately put it all behind us, forget it, forget that patient, that life ... and go on. Treat the next patient; save the next life."

The shrill sound of a beeper interrupted the monologue. Susan automatically reached for her pocket, but Chris said, "That's me." He checked his beeper. "The ER needs me." A smile. "Another life to save, I suppose." He rose. "It was a pleasure chatting with you, Susan. We'll have to do it again some time." He started for the door, then turned back. "Oh, and Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," Susan said automatically in return, and watched him vanished into the hall. She shook her head and returned her attention to her lunch.

What a strange thing for him to say. What a strange man. No-one else expected her to have a Merry Christmas. She had offered to work today specifically to try and forget that it was Christmas. Forget that it was Christmas and she was alone.

How could he have forgotten that? How could a man who claimed to be so interested in, and aware of, people's feelings have been so blind to hers? To ask so many personal questions; to rattle on at such length, so impersonally, about loss and grief and death; not realizing that he was pouring salt into open wounds. Almost blaming her for her pain. If she wasn't a doctor, he seemed to be saying, she would know how to grieve.

Or had he been saying that at all? Maybe he had forgotten she was even there, forgotten her own situation. He was talking because the subject interested him, that was all. And Susan was amazed to realize that there was no fresh salt in her wounds, that she felt, in fact, better than she had in a long time. Chris was the first person in days who had actually talked to her, to have treated her like a normal person rather than a grieving widow … or leper. And there was something oddly endearing about his cheerful bluntness, his ignorance of social graces.

Susancouldn't help smiling again.What a very strange man.


	5. Chapter 5

Meanwhile ... on St. Barts ...

Sam squinted into the sunshine. Alex was walking along the edge of the water, bending down every few steps to pick up a shell. He looked up at her and waved, and she waved back. "Don't go in any deeper than your knees!" she called. Alex nodded vigorously and returned to his shell hunting, and Sam returned to her seat on the shady veranda.

She had lived a lot of different places in her 27 years, but she'd never spent the holidays anywhere quite like this. She could get used to this. She could definitely get used to this.

Footsteps behind her, and a light kiss to the top of her head. "So, what shall we do today?" John asked.

"What did you have in mind?"

"Oh … we could swim … or walk on the beach … or sit in the shade and drink cute pink drinks with little umbrellas in them … or go down to the resort spa and get a massage … or eat lobster … or take a long nap … or take a long nap together."

"That sounds an awful lot like what we did yesterday. And the day before." Sam laughed.

"Getting to strenuous for you? If it is, we could always omit the walk on the beach."

"Nope. Sounds just about perfect." She took another slice of mango from the platter. "I could definitely get used to this."

"Get used to what? The view? The climate? The lobsters?"

"All of the above. And the mangos. And being a lady of leisure. And, of course, having you all to myself."

"Not quite all to yourself," John said. "There's a certain 10 year old boy in the equation."

"Ok, I'll share you with Alex. But not with a bunch of sick people."

John shook his head. "Sorry, as much as I enjoy spoiling you, I don't think I'm cut out for the life of the idle rich. I'm going to be climbing the walls before the week is out. And so will you."

"There's a hospital here."

"How's your French?"

"Nonexistent. But you speak French. You could teach me."

It was John's turn to laugh. "You'd be surprised at how little French I speak. I managed amazingly well with 'merci' and 'bonjour' … and a few useful phrases like 'your daughter has malaria,' and 'you must boil the drinking water …' neither of which are likely to be very useful here. There's no malaria on St. Barts. Besides, treating tourists for sunburn and overindulgence in lobster and cute pink drinks is not what I went to medical school for."

John poured himself a glass of orange juice and carried it the edge of the veranda. As she had been doing a few minutes earlier, he stared out towards the water, but Sam knew he wasn't watching Alex. He just swirled the juice absently in his glass and gazed out, just as absently.

After a long minute of silence Sam finally asked, "You miss it, don't you?"

"Work?"

"No, Africa."

A momentary smile. "Yeah, I do. I miss the work I was doing there … the chance to really make a difference in people's lives, the feeling I had every day of really being needed. It's different there … and it's addictive." Another smile. "But, like most addictive things, there was also a downside. I don't miss the complete lack of basic comforts. And I don't miss the helplessness – knowing every day that I could do so much more if I just had a few more supplies … that my patients were dying for lack of basic medicines … knowing that the smallest suburban Walgreen's was better stocked that the largest hospital in Kisangani. Knowing that all. My knowledge and skills weren't enough." Softly. "That was hard." He turned to face her. "And don't worry, I'm not going back. I'm needed here now. You need me, and Alex needs me, and that's enough for me. Besides, it's gotten to be pretty dangerous over there."

"Gotten to be? You mean it wasn't dangerous before?"

"It's worse now. Hard to believe, isn't it?" John smiled again, and his words were light, but the troubled look had returned to his eyes. Sam had only a moment to see it before he turned away from her again and went to perch on the railing.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked after a moment.

"Nothing."

"Are you thinking about Luka?"

"Let's go down to the beach," John said, setting his glass down. "I promised Alex that I'd build sandcastles with him today." He started for the French doors, but Sam moved to block his path. From this point of view, she could see the strain of the faked smile.

"You didn't answer my question," she said quietly. "Something's wrong. Tell me."

John sighed. "I'm just feeling a little bit guilty, I guess."

"About what?"

"This." John made a sweeping gesture that took in the shady veranda, the sparkling Caribbean waters, the platter of fruit on the table. Even her. Sam waited patiently and, after a minute, John went on. "It doesn't seem right that I should have all this … that I should be so happy. Luka and Susan are my best friends. And now Luka is dead and Susan is grieving … and I'm here enjoying myself … and feeling happier than I have any right to be. I wasn't thinking about Luka, but maybe I should have been. Maybe I should give Susan a call … see how she's doing."

"If Susan needs you, she has your number." Sam shook her head. "You are allowed to be happy … you need the chance to be happy. John, you have done so much for them. You risked your life to save Luka when you were in Africa together … and you went on risking your life to help your patients there. However dangerous it was then compared to now … it was dangerous enough. Seeing what happened to Luka is proof enough of that.

"You know … I don't for one minute begrudge you the time you've spent with Luka and Susan. They're your friends … they're my friends too. I was glad we were able to help when they needed us. But now, Alex and I need you. You just said so yourself. We need you to be there for us, and we need for you to be happy. I know that Luka would want that for you, and I know that Susan still does. You need to mourn, and to feel bad about what happened to Luka, but you also need to think about the three of us, about the fact that, in six months we'll be married … and about our future together. That's what's important now. Ok?"

"Ok," John said, and this time his smile was genuine. Now let's go build those sandcastles."


	6. Chapter 6

"Dr. Lewis, labs are back on your kid in 2."

"Thanks, Sam." Susan took the page from Sam and glanced at it. "I don't know why they call it a rapid strep test when it takes 3 hours to get the results from the lab. If they'd move a little faster, maybe we could move some of these patients out."

Sam shrugged. "It's all part of the same problem, isn't it? We're swamped, so they're swamped. I think it's a symptom of 'January in Chicago' syndrome."

Susan chuckled and pulled out her prescription pad. "Ok, give them a scrip for amoxy, the usual aftercare stuff, and get 'em out of here."

"Will do. Wanna get lunch later?"

"Maybe. Come find me when you're hungry."

Susan headed for admit to pick up another chart. Things were, she thought, slowly getting back to normal; or maybe just settling into the new version of 'normal.' It had been three weeks, Sam and Carter were back from St Barts. The pain of her loss was just as sharp but she was getting used to it, getting used to functioning in a fog of grief. Her co-workers no longer treated her like a china doll.

"Dr. Lewis," Frank said. "You have a visitor."

"Who?"

"How the hell should I know? Some lady came in looking for you."

"So … where is she?" Susan could feel her patience getting short.

"She wasn't a patient, so I told her to wait in chairs; that you'd be with her when you could find the time."

Susan looked at the overflowing rack and the crowded board … and sighed. Hopefully it wouldn't take long, whoever it was.

Out in the waiting room she was scanning the crowd for a familiar face when suddenly a voice squealed "Susan! Aunt Susan!" And a slender form threw itself into her arms.

"Suzie!" Stunned, Susan returned her niece's embrace, then stepped back to look at her. Suzie had grown a lot in the three years since Susan had last seen her. She was tall for 9 ½, and slender; long strawberry blond hair in a single braid down her back. She wore jeans, ripped out at the knees, a rather faded blue and white striped polo shirt, and a pink parka. "Suzie," she said again after a minute, "What are you doing here? You're mom's here too, right?"

"Yeah, she went out to have a cigarette. She's outside where the ambulances park."

"Wait here one second. Don't move," Susan told her, then hurried back to admit. "Frank, tell Carter I'm taking a break." A dash to the lounge for her coat and then she rejoined Suzie in the waiting room. Suzie slipped a warm hand into hers and Susan smiled at her as they walked outside together into the ambulance bay.

Chloe had changed too. She was thinner than Susan remembered, and there were streaks of grey in her hair, and hard lines around her eyes. But her smile was the same, and her voice as she jumped up from the bench. "Suze!" And Susan found herself wrapped in a tobacco scented hug.

"Chloe … what are you doing here? When did you get here? Why didn't you call?"

"We just got into town last night."

"You should have called me."

"I tried, Suze. But your phone number seems to belong to some lady who only speaks Chinese … or Vietnamese … something like that."

Susan felt a wave of guilt. Not only had she nearly forgotten her friends during the past year, she'd forgotten her family as well. She'd never let Chloe know that she had moved in with Luka; that her old phone number was no longer good.

Chloe was still talking. "I tried to call Henry to get your phone number, but he wasn't home. So I figured I'd just come to the hospital. If you weren't here, I knew someone would know where to find you."

"But what are you doing here? You're still living in Albany, aren't you?"

"Yeah… or I was until last week. We're just passing through town; I thought I'd stop and say hi."

"Passing through? Where are you going?"

"Rugby, North Dakota."

"Where the hell is Rugby, North Dakota?"

Chloe gestured vaguely westward. "Somewhere that-a-way, I guess. I have directions in the car."

"Ok … why Rugby, North Dakota?"

"A job, what else? It's a really great job. Ricky's cousin…"

"Who's Ricky?" Susan's head was spinning.

"A guy I've been seeing … his cousin owns a motel out there. They needed a manager … I needed a job. It doesn't pay much, but there's a little apartment behind the office where we can live."

"But ... North Dakota?" Susan said slowly. "Can't you find another job in Albany? Or you could find one here."

"I couldn't find anything that paid enough to live on, Suze. I'm so glad this came up; it's perfect. A job and a place to live, all rolled into one."

Susan put the pieces together. "You got evicted."

"Uh huh; I lost my job in October. But I needed a change anyway. What's that stupid saying about God closing one door and opening another? I think this will be better … especially for …" She jerked her head towards Suzie, who was standing there half-listening, hands in her pockets. "Small town, you know?"

"Mom doesn't like my friends," Suzie said matter-of-factly. "She thinks they're a bad influence."

Susan glanced at her watch, and remembered the crowded rack. "It sounds great, Chloe. Look … I have to get back to work. Maybe we can all have dinner tonight. Where are you staying?"

"Days Inn down in Hammond." Then a nervous smile. "Actually … I was thinking … hoping … that you'd watch Suzie for a couple of hours. I need to run downtown and get a copy of her birth certificate. Our copy disappeared three or four moves ago."

"I'm really busy, Chloe. You saw how crowded it was. Can't Suzie go with you?"

"Please, Aunt Susan," Suzie begged. "I haven't seen you in so long."

"How long will you be?" Susan asked.

"Two hours … two and a half max."

"Ok," Susan relented. "Suzie and I will get lunch. You come find us the second you get back. We'll work out something for dinner tonight."

"Thanks Suze! You're the greatest."

Susan watched Chloe head down the street towards a small banger of a car, the back-seat loaded with boxes and luggage. "God … what is that? A Chevette?"

"Yeah." Suzie giggled. "Mom bought it from Ricky. She said it cost less than a bus ticket. There's a big hole in the floor."

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A dash inside for her wallet and to tell Frank she was taking a lunch break; and ten minutes later she and Suzie were seated in Ike's. waiting for the waitress to bring them hamburgers and fries.

"So … North Dakota. That'll be a big change. Are you excited?"

"It's gonna be awful, Aunt Susan. It's like … the end of the Earth."

"Not quite." Susan laughed. "I'm sure you're going to love it; lot's of fresh air, you'll learn to cross-country ski ... and you know that they say that small-town people are really friendly. You'll make new friends in no time."

"I guess…" Suzie sighed. "It's just that we're always moving. I mean… I went to kindergarten in Phoenix, and first grade in New Jersey. Since then … since Mom left Joe … I've lived in 3 different cities and 5 different apartments and gone to 4 different schools. I was finally making some really good friends in Albany, and now we're moving again. It's not fair."

"Suzie, your mom does what she has to to take care of you. It's hard for her too, I'm sure. But it sounds like Rugby will be great. You'll make more good friends there."

"I'll bet it's a one-room school house, like Little House on the Prairie. I'll bet the kids talk about cows and chickens all day."

"Give it a chance," Susan said firmly. "Are you doing well in school?"

Suzie shrugged. "I guess. A lot of it's pretty dumb … but I have lots of friends … or at least I did until last week."

"Do you see much of Joe?"

"Not anymore. I don't think Mom ever told him when we moved last time. I guess he doesn't know where we are."

"And who's Ricky?"

"Mom's boyfriend. One of 'em anyway."

"And there really is a job for Mom in North Dakota?"

"I guess so." Suzie cocked her head thoughtfully. "Do you have a boyfriend?"

"Not at the moment, no."

A disappointed sigh. "I don't get it, Aunt Susan. You're so pretty and so smart. Mom always has lots of boyfriends and she …"

"Is pretty and smart too," Susan interrupted firmly.

"I guess," Suzie agreed dubiously. "But you practically never have a boyfriend." She lowered her voice and leaned towards Susan, confidentially. "You're not gay, are you?"

Susan had to laugh. "No, Suzie. I'm not gay. I did have a boyfriend. I just don't have one right now."

"Did he dump you, or did you dump him?"

"Neither one. He died."

"Really?"

"Really."

Suzie's eyes widened. "Oh, Aunt Susan … that's so sad! Are you lonely?"

Suzie's spontaneous rush of sympathy made Susan smile a little. So much more sincere, more heartfelt, than all the hugs and 'I'm sorry's' from her friends and co-workers. But she just nodded. "Yeah, I am lonely. And I'm sad about it. But I'm very to see you and your mom. I've missed you."

"You haven't called us in so long. Mom said you were probably just real busy, but I thought maybe you'd forgotten us."

Susan sighed, and lied … just a little. "I have been busy, Suzie. Time just got away from me. But I would never forget you, you know that."

"I know …"

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Susan looked at her watch as the waitress cleared away the plates. Damn, she'd been at lunch way too long. Well, with any luck, Chloe would be waiting for them in the lobby.

"Suzie, I need to get back to work now."

"Is Mom back?"

"I don't know. If she's not, we have a family room where you can watch a DVD while you wait for her."

In the waiting room, Susan again scanned the crowd. No Chloe. With Suzie trailing behind her, she headed to the desk. "Frank, is my sister back yet?"

"Who?"

"The woman who was looking for me earlier. Is she here?"

"How should I know," Frank grumbled.

"Ok, when she gets back, have her wait in chairs again, and come find me right away."

"Fine. Whatever. Like I don't have anything better to do with my time!"

As Susan guided her niece towards the family room Suzie said, "I don't think I like him very much."

"He's nicer than he pretends to be," Susan said. "Really."

She pushed open the door to the family room. It was empty. "Ok, what movie do you want to watch? We have Mulan, we have Ice Age …"

"Those are … like … baby movies," Suzie complained.

"They're kid movies. And you're a kid."

"I thought you said this was a room for families. Not everyone in a family is a kid. Where the the movies for the moms and dads?"

"Good point," Susan agreed cheerfully. " But I guess the moms and dads just have to watch the movies that the kids like. Anyway, you pick whatever you want to watch. I'll bring Mom to you as soon as she gets here."

"I'll see you again tonight, won't I?"

"Absolutely. I told you that the three of us would have dinner, and I meant it. And I'll come visit you in North Dakota this summer."

Susan hurried from the room and back to the desk. She grabbed a few charts and plunged back into the chaotic ER. Her long lunch break had not been a good idea. Rushing from patient to patient time flew by. When she next looked at the clock, she realized with shock that it had been over 2 hours since she and Suzie had gotten back – nearly four hours since Chloe had left.

"Frank, is my sister not back yet?"

"I told you I'd get you, didn't I? If she's here, I haven't seen her."

Susan peered through the glass into the waiting room, no sign of Chloe. Back to the family room, she looked through the narrow glass window in the door. The tv screen was blue, the movie over. Suzie was curled up on the sofa, asleep.

Back to the desk. "Frank, do we have a Gary/Hammond area phone book?"

"Nope. Who do you want to call? Your sister lives in Gary? Boy … no wonder you never talk about her!"

"No! Never mind…" Susan said slowly. _Come on, Susan … don't let your imagination run away with you. Traffic's bad downtown … lines can be hellishly long in the record's office. It hasn't been so long .Everything's fine._

"Ok, just be sure to find me when she shows." Susan took another chart and returned to work.


	7. Chapter 7

Authors Note: This week's ER left me with something of a dilemma. Up until now Dubenko didn't have a first name, so I created one for him. Now TPTB have given him one, which is, obviously different from my choice. After some consideration I've opted to NOT change the name in my fic. The series can call him Lucian. I'm still calling him Chris.

Also, while I have all the ER episodes on tape or DVD, I don't have the "Third Watch" episode which followed "Brothers and Sisters" and completed the story of Suzie and Chloe in New York, and I don't remember the details. So I'm a bit vague about it here.

Now read, enjoy, review.

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Susan put the chart into the discharge rack and glanced at her watch. Another hour had gone by.

"I found that phone book," Frank said. He hefted the yellow pages onto the counter.

For a moment Susan just looked at it. There was no harm in calling. Maybe Chloe had misunderstood their conversation. Yeah, that was it. She'd gone back to the hotel, expecting Susan to bring Suzie there after she got off work. A simple enough misunderstanding. But Susan couldn't keep her hands from shaking as she turned the pages, and then dialed the phone.

"Good afternoon, Days Inn Hammond; may I help you?"

"Yeah. Chloe Lewis, please. I don't know the room number."

A moment's silence. "I'm sorry. I'm not seeing anyone registered by that name."

"Are you sure? L-E-W-I-S." Susan felt her grip tighten on the phone.

"No, I'm sorry. Wait a minute … she was with a little girl … about 11?"

"Yeah. That's right."

"Right, I remember them now. They checked out this morning." A long pause. "Can I do anything else for you, ma'am?"

"No … thank you." Susan slowly hung up the phone. Checked out … and gone where? She might have gone to Henry's … no, Chloe hadn't spoken to Henry or Cookie since moving to Arizona. No, she was more likely to be at the local crack house. There were plenty of those in Chicago. Plenty in Hammond too. Or maybe she was already half-way to Minnesota by now. Or halfway to just about anywhere else. North Dakota was probably just another lie.

Susan put her head in her hands and took a deep breath. She had to figure something out; find Chloe, find somewhere for Suzie to stay.

"Susan? Are you ok?" Susan raised her head to see Carter standing there, looking concerned.

"What? Yeah, I'm fine." Then a weak smile. "No, I'm not. I'm trying to track down my sister." The words came out brittle.

"Chloe?"

"_She's the only sister I've got_."

"Chloe's in Chicago?"

"Yeah … or rather, I don't know. She stopped by this morning, dropped off Suzie. She said sheneeded to do some errands, thought we'd like to spend a few hours together.She was supposed to be backages ago, but I think she's split again."

Carter looked thoughtful for a moment, then said slowly, "I'm not sure, but I think I may have treated her."

"You think? You think you treated her? Either you did or you didn't, Carter." Her voice went up an octave as she struggled to fight the volitile mixture of hysteria and frustration.

"A trauma came in while you were at lunch. An MVA. A Jane Doe; she was unconscious, had no ID. I thought she looked familiar, but I couldn't place her. Ifigured maybe she was just a frequent flyer. The cops were running the plates on the car, but it was out of state … they were having trouble getting the registration, I guess. By the time we sent her upstairs we still didn't have an ID. But now … I think it might have been Chloe."

Susan realized that she was gripped the edge of the counter, white knuckled. "Where is she now?"

"We sent her up to the OR a few hours ago. I haven't heard anything more. She's probably still in surgery."

"Which surgeon?"

"Dubenko."

Susan was already heading for the elevators. Then she stopped. "Carter?"

"Yeah?"

"Is it bad?"

Carter's eyes met hers and he nodded slightly.

At the elevator Susan hit the call button hard with a hand that was clenched into a fist, then paced nervously, waiting for it to come.

It couldn't be Chloe. Chloe was driving, she would have had her wallet; they would know if it had been Chloe. But if it wasn't Chloe she was back to those other options; the nearest crack house or the open road. Which was worse? Should she be hoping that it was Chloe … or praying that it wasn't?

"Come on … come on …" What was taking the damned elevator so long? "Oh, screw it!" Susan headed for the stairs, almost thankful for the opportunity to burn off a little of the nervous energy that had been building in her all afternoon. _Damn it, Chloe … if you want to fuck up your own life, fine. But just once, can't you think about someone else?_

At the top of the stairs, Susan forced her steps down to a fast walk as she hurried towards the surgical admit desk. The nurse looked up from her work.

"Can I help you, Dr. Lewis?"

"Dr. Dubenko had a trauma patient earlier this afternoon. Is she still in the OR?"

"The MVA?"

"Uh huh."

The nurse consulted her papers. "That's the Jane Doe, right? She got out of surgery about 45 minutes ago. She's in recovery. Bed 3. Shall I page Dr. Dubenko for you?"

"No … ummm … yeah … page him."

Susan was already running again, through the door of recovery. She stopped short in front of bed 3.

No wonder Carter hadn't recognized her. Susan barely recognized her. The left side of her face was swollen and purple, a maze of sutures making a pattern across her cheek, eyelid and forehead. Her head was wrapped in bandages. More bandages on her abdomen and chest, and still more on her legs and hands. Two IV's, a cardiac monitor and an ICP monitor.

"Sonovabitch…"

There were footsteps behind her and a familiar voice. "Susan?" She turned quickly to see Dr. Dubenko standing there. "Did you work on her in the ER?" he asked. "I don't remember seeing you in the trauma room."

"No." Susan's voice was suddenly hoarse, and she cleared her throat. "She isn't my patient. She's my sister."

"Oh!" Chris's eyes widened a little. "I didn't realize. Nobody told me. She had no ID; Dr. Carter had down as a Jane Doe."

"Carter didn't know. He hasn't seen Chloe in over 10 years."

"Chloe. That's a pretty name." He pulled a chair closer. "Here, why don't you sit down?"

"No, I'm fine."

"You're about to fall down, Susan."

Susan realized she was gripping the footboard of the bed with all her strength, and she finally nodded and sank into the chair. "But she should have had ID, Chris. She was driving, wasn't she? She would have had her license."

"There was a fire." Chris spoke quietly. "As I understand it, some bystanders managed to pull your sister out of the car, but everything else that might have been in there is toast. Including, one would assume, her driver's licence."

"The plates. Carter said the cops were running them."

"The car was reported stolen 3 months ago."

"God, Chloe, you never change, do you. One screw-up after another." Susan took a deep breath and looked at Chris, who was holding the chart. "Well, you can fix her chart now. Chloe Lewis; date of birth April 8th, 1961. How is she?"

"Critical. I worked on her, and so did Dr. Morales from neurosurg. I repaired her liver, removed her spleen and some damaged bowel. She has full-thickness burns to both legs and her right hand; they did escharaotomies down in the ER, and placed a couple of chest tubes. Dr. Morales removed some blood clots from her brain; wired her skull and jaw back together."

"If you're gunna steal a car, Chloe, why don't you steal one with air bags?" Susan shook her head. "Or at least seat-belts." She looked at Chris again. "Will she live?" She wasn't sure she wanted the honest answer that she knew he would give her, but she had to ask.

"I don't know. The good news is that she's breathing on her own, so she still has some neurological function. The bad news is … just about everything else." He put a hand on her shoulder. It was probably meant to be comforting, but Susan was too numb to care.

The door to recovery opened and Carter came in. "It's Chloe?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"I should have recognized her, Susan; I'm sorry. I'm usually really good with faces."

Susan laughed, just a little bit hysterically. "I barely recognized her myself. Her face isn't exactly recognizable, is it? If I hadn't already suspected it was her …"

"Where's Suzie?" Carter asked. "Is she with your dad?"

"Oh shit!" Susan's stomach flipped over and she jumped to her feet. "Suzie … she must be frantic by now! She's in the family room, I told her to wait there until Chloe got back. I put in a DVD for her."

"Who's Suzie?" Dubenko asked.

"My niece … Chloe's daughter."

"How old?"

"She's nine."

"Is there any other family we need to contact? A husband?"

Susan shook her head. "They're divorced … I don't even know where Joe is anymore. And he isn't Suzie's father."

"Ok," Carter said. "Well, we'll have to tell Suzie what's going on with her mom, and we can bring her up to see her as soon as Chloe's moved to the SICU. Then I guess she'll have to go home with you."

"With me?" Susan was startled. "No … I can't … she can't." Carter looked surprised, but no more so than Susan herself.

"Susan," Chris said gently. "Chloe's going to be here for at least a month, maybe more. Suzie needs a place to stay."

"So call DCFS, see about getting a foster placement for her. She's really a sweet little girl; she should be easy to place."

Carter was shaking his head, clearly baffled by her response. "Susan, she's your niece. She'd be much better off with you."

"I can't take her, Carter. I just can't, not right now!"

"Ok, you don't have to do anything you don't want." Chris's voice was oddly soothing. He turned to the nurse. "Angie, would you page social work for us, please?" He turned back to Susan. "We'll wait to tell Suzie anything until we get this hashed out."

"Yeah … that makes sense," Susan said.

"I'll call down to the ER," Carter said, "and get someone to check on her … tell her something, anyway."

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Ten minutes later Susan was seated in the conference room with Carter, Dubenko and Wendell.

Wendell folded her hands in front of her. "So, Dr.Carter tells me that you aren't able to take Suzie while her mother recovers from her injuries. And there's no father in the picture, and no other relatives."

"It's not that I don't want to. I can't. I mean … I have to work. Who would take care of her while I'm at work all day? She's not old enough to stay by herself."

"She'll be in school most of the day, Dr. Lewis," Wendell said. "And I'm sure the ER can juggle your shifts."

"We have a good babysitter for Alex," Carter added. "I'm sureErica could watch Suzie as well."

"We don't … I don't have a spare bedroom. I have no place for her to sleep."

"Is that the real reason?" Wendell asked quietly.

Susan struggled to gather her thoughts. She knew that she couldn't take Suzie, but even she wasn't certain why. She did know, though, even before Wendell said it in so many words,that her excuses were growing less and less believable. "Look," she finally said slowly, "I'm barely holding it together myself right now. Since Luka died it's been all I can do to keep from falling apart. I can barely take care of myself, how can I take care of Suzie?"

"I'm sure you'll do at least as well as any foster family would," Wendell said. "Suzie knows you. I am positive that she'd much rather sleep on a cot in your apartment than in a bed with a houseful of strangers."

"I don't want to." Susan couldn't look at them.

"Ok," Wendell said. "Is there any other family in the area? Any other aunts or uncles?" Susan shook her head. "Your parents?"

"My mom's gone. Dad hasn't seen Suzie since she was a baby, and he's pretty old; his health isn't very good. I don't think he could look after her, even if he was willing to."

"Dr. Lewis," Wendell said. "I really think we need to think about what's best for Suzie. She's in a strange city. You're the only person she knows here. Her mother is very seriously injured. She's facing months of hospitalization, and she may never recover. Doesn't Suzie deserve to be with someone who knows her, someone who loves her?"

"Today was the first time in 3 years that I've seen Suzie. It's not like we're close anymore."

"She lived with you for a year," Carter said. "You moved to Arizona to be with her." At Wendell's surprised look he clarified. "Chloe abandoned Suzie when she was a baby. She left her with Susan." He turned to Susan. "I remember that, Susan. You were going to adopt her. To fought tooth and nail to keep her …"

"And I lost!" Susan interrupted. "I lost … or did you forget that part of the story?" And suddenly the pieces of the puzzle fell into place for her. "I lost her once. She was my whole life and I lost her. I can't go through that again. I won't … I can't lose anyone else." A slight smile. "You know that stupid cliché about it being better to have loved and lost? Well it's not true. I can tell you from extensive personal experience that it's a pack of lies."

"You know, Susan," Chris said. "There is a very good chance that Chloe will die, or will never recover sufficiently to care for her daughter again."

"Great! So now I'm supposed to hope that Chloe dies so I can keep Suzie?"

"That may not be necessary," Wendell said. "Chloe's tox screen was positive. While her BAC was below the legal limit, she was driving under the influence. There were also traces of cocaine and marijuana. You could probably file for permanent custody."

"Oh, right!" A bitter laugh. "We all know how well that works." Again, Wendell and Chris looked puzzled and Susan explained. "When Suzie was born, Chloe had been screwed up … wasted on drugs and alcohol for almost 20 years. She was pulled over for DWI's twice while she was pregnant. The day she walked out on us she was flying high on something … I don't even know what. When she showed up again 6 months later she was clean, she had a job, and she was engaged. And she wanted Suzie back. I wanted to fight for her … like Carter said, I would have done anything … given anything …but the judge told me that I had no chance of winning. She said that the fact that Chloe had been clean for 5 months erased the past 20 years, and that if I fought for Suzie, I would just end up wasting my money and my time … I would never win. Chloe was her mother, and that's all that mattered. So I let Chloe take her.She stayed clean for 5 years, and then it all started again. Drugs, booze … she left Suzie in an SRO while she was off in a shooting gallery killing herself with heroin. Chloe nearly died … Suzie could have died … but again, the minute Chloe got herself back into treatment, she got Suzie back. None of that was enough to make them take Suzie away, so I'm really supposed to believe that a trace of coke and a couple of beers is going to do it? It won't be any different this time."

"I'll go to bat for you, Dr. Lewis," Wendell said. "If you want me to."

"I appreciate the offer, but I don't want it. I'm trying to put my own life back together." Susan took a deep breath. "Look, I know that it's the right thing to do. I know that I should be willing to step up … put her needs ahead of mine. But right now I don't want to do the right thing. I spent the past year taking care of Luka. Now, I need to take care of me for a while.I'm sorry, but that's the way it is."

"Ok," Wendell said. "I understand. I'll go put in a call to DCFS, try to get a placement. Given the hour though, she may have to spend the night in emergency intake."

She rose to leave and Chris said, "And now we get to go tell Suzie about her mom."

In the elevator with Chris and Carter, Susan said, "You think I'm wrong, don't you?"

"It doesn't matter what we think," Chris said. "But you just said it yourself didn't you?"

"If … Chloe dies … maybe I'll take Suzie then. But not now." She hesitated. "Did you know … all the time that I was in Arizona with Chloe and Suzie, Chloe insisted that I never mention the time Suzie spent with me. 'I'm her mother now,' she said. 'It would only confuse her to learn that you had played at being her mother.' Played at it …" Susan laughed. "It wasn't a game. Not to me. But I did what Chloe asked. Suzie was so young when she lived with me, she didn't remember any of it. She's never known me as anything but her aunt … her loving aunt who Chloe loved so much that she named her after me." Susan's eyes were suddenly blurry, and she wiped at them.

As the elevator doors opened, Carter said, "I understand, Susan. You have a lot of stress in your life right now, and you don't need more. Instant parenthood is definitely stressful. Believe me, I know." He laughed, and Susan could help laughing a little herself through her tears.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: No, I have not forgottten this fic. My apologies for the long delay in getting this up. I WILL do better, cross my heart!

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Looking through the glass into the family room, Susan saw Sam and Suzie talking animatedly about something. Sam spotted her and quickly came to the door.

"She's a sweet girl, Susan," she said. Giving Susan's hand a quick squeeze, she headed back to work.

Suzie rose as Susan entered the room. "Isn't Mom back yet? It's getting awfully late."

"Ummm …. We need to talk about your mom," Susan said slowly. "These are two of my friends, Dr. Carter and Dr. Dubenko."

Suddenly wary, Suzie's glance flitted from Carter to Chris and then back to Susan. And Susan didn't know what to say. How often had she broken this sort of news to family and friends? But Chris had been right that day at lunch, she'd never really felt it; she never allowed herself to empathize, to feel what they were feeling. They'd been only words. Even with Luka, breaking the news to his father, she had rehearsed that one a thousand times before the real moment came. The words had been just as automatic, just as empty as when speaking to a stranger. And, of course, there had been several thousand miles of fiber-optic cable between her and Tata. She didn't have to look into his eyes.

It felt like hours, but was really only a moment before, to her relief, Chris took over.

"Suzie, your mom had an accident. She was very badly hurt."

"No," Suzie interrupted confidently. "She's not hurt; she's just drunk. She gets drunk a lot … let her sleep it off for a few hours and she'll be fine."

"No, Suzie," Carter said gently. "She isn't just drunk. She had an accident with her car. I took care of her in the emergency room, and Dr. Dubenko took care of her in the operating room."

"Did she die?" The coldness of the question made Susan uncomfortable. This was a little girl asking about her mother, she should be showing more emotion.

"She didn't die," Chris said. "But her injuries were very serious. It's going to be a long time before she's better, and she'll have to stay in the hospital for a while."

"But she can't!" Suzie shook her head. "She has a job. Aunt Susan, you told them about Mom's job, didn't you? We have to be in North Dakota by the day after tomorrow. They'll be so mad if she doesn't show up. You can fix her up, can't you? Mom always says that you're the best doctor in the world. You'll fix her up, I know you will."

"I can't," Susan finally interrupted. "I can't make her better, Suzie. But Dr. Dubenko is a really good surgeon. He did everything _he_ could to fix her up. She will get better but it's going to take some time. And until she does get better she'll have to stay here."

"When I broke my arm I got to go right home after they put the cast on.Mom took care of me … I went to school. If Mom comes home, I can take care of her … I'm old enough."

"Her injuries are much worse than just a broken arm, Suzie," Carter said. "She is going to have to stay in the hospital for a while so we can take extra good care of her."

"But you can visit her while she's here," Chris went on. "In fact, we can go upstairs and see her right now."

"Is she asking to see me?" Suzie asked.

"No, she's still asleep from the surgery. But you can see _her, _and you can talk to her."

Suzie sat back down on the couch. "I don't know." She gave Susan an anxious look, and Susan could see the first crack in her armor."Is she like … all cut up?"

"There are some cuts," Susan said. "Both from the accident and from where the surgeons had to cut to fix her up. But the cuts are covered with bandages. There are also some bruises, and a lot of tubes and wires … but she is still your mom."

"So she _is_ gunna die," Suzie said bluntly. "You wouldn't be doing all this if she wasn't."

Chris sat beside her. "We don't know what's going to happen, Suzie. She is very badly hurt, and yes, she could die. But I think you should go up and see her because if you don't you're just going to imagine that things are even worse than they are. Like your aunt said, she does have a lot of cuts and bruises, but she doesn't look all that bad. I think you'll feel better after you see her."

"I feel ok now," Suzie said, then bit her lip. She looked up at Susan and, for the first time a hint of nervousness came into her voice. "You'll come with me?"

"Of course I will."

"Ok, then," Suzie said. She rose and offered her hand to Susan.

Carter said, "If you two have got this, I'll get back to work."

"Sure," Chris said.

"And I was just thinking … maybe me and Sam could … you know …" A meaningful glance towards Suzie. "Alex might like it."

"Well have to see," Susan said. "And see what Wendell says."

In the elevator Chris made quiet small-talk with Suzie, asking her about school. When the doors opened onto the surgical floor they started for recovery. Susan could feel Suzie dragging her feet as they walked together. At the door she hung back.

"I don't think I want to," she said. "I can wait until she wakes up."

"It may be awhile," Chris said. "We aren't going to make you come in, but I really think you'll be glad if you do … and sorry if you don't."

"Ok," Suzie whispered, and the three of them entered the room.

Chloe looked just the same as she had before. For a long minute Suzie just looked at her, wide-eyed.

"When will she wake up?" she finally asked.

"I don't know," Chris said. "Maybe tomorrow, maybe not for a few days."

"Did it hurt … when the accident happened? It looks like it did."

"She was probably knocked out right away. She hit her head pretty hard; she wouldn't have felt much pain. And when she does wake up we'll give her lots of medicine so she won't have much pain then either."

Just then the door opened and Wendell looked in. "Dr. Lewis?"

"I'll be right back," Susan told Suzie, and joined Wendell in the doorway.

"I was able to find her a group placement for tonight. Carlyle House, on Halstead. I'm hoping to be able to find her a foster placement tomorrow, but it may be a few days."

"Carter … Dr. Carter said that he and Sam might be able to take her."

Wendell shook her head. "That's not a possibility. They're not approved foster parents. They'd have to go through the whole training and approval process, and that takes a while. Carlyle House is the best I can offer right now. It's a good group home, there are about a dozen kids there, all around her age."

Susan looked back at her niece. Chris was pointing out the various machines, patiently explaining everything to her. She had to smile. Chris could be strange, sometimes rude and abrupt with adults, but her was, without question, wonderful with kids. Much better than she was, anyway. She'd always worked well with adults, connected with them. But not kids. Luka had been good with kids.

Wendell was still talking to her. "Dr.Lewis?"

"Yeah? What …"

"Someone from DCFS will be here in about an hour to take her. Will you tell her or shall I?"

"I … I'll do it. I'll take her down to the cafeteria, get her something to eat. And I'll tell her."

"Sounds good. I'll page you when they come, or you can page me if you need anything."

"Sure," Susan said. "Thanks, Wendell."

Susan rejoined Chris and Suzie by the bed. "Are you ready to go, or do you want to stay a little longer?"

"I'm ready."

"I guess you must get getting pretty hungry."

"A little."

"What do you say we get some supper? I'm hungry."

"Ok, but after supper we have to go to the car."

"The car?"

"Mom's car," Suzie said impatiently.

"Why?"

"All my stuff is there. The suitcases with all my clothes."

Chris jumped in again. "I showed you where your mom got burned in the accident, remember? There was a fire in the car. Everything inside the car got burned up."

"All my stuff got burnt up?"

"I'm afraid so."

"But I'll need my pajamas. They got burnt up too?"

"Yup."

"And my bear?" The cocky, confident young adolescent was gone, and suddenly Suzie was a little girl again, and for the first time all afternoon there were tears in her eyes. "My bear was on the seat."

And Susan remembered that day, almost 9 years before, when she had searched the apartment, tears in her own eyes, looking for Suzie's lost bear. Mr. B had been the one familiar thing Suzie had taken with her to Phoenix. He'd grown increasingly tattered and ratty over the years, but he'd remained Suzie's security blanket through their many moves; her only anchor as her life with Chloe had spiraled downward.

"Even your bear," Susan said gently.

Suzie shook her head, desperation in her voice."But I need my stuff. How can I sleep without my pajamas?"

"We'll find you something to wear to bed tonight," Susan said. "And tomorrow we'll go shopping. I'll get you all new stuff. Even a new bear if you want one."

"It won't be the same …" The tears had spilled over.

"No, it won't be," Susan agreed. "Nothing's going to be the same. But we'll do the best we can."

"Will you get me those sneakers that light up when you walk?"

"Absolutely."

Suzie suddenly caught her around the waist in a fierce hug, and Susan looked over the top of her head to meet Chris's surprised look. She gave a shrug and a half smile.

"Chris, could you call Wendell for me … tell her I'm taking Suzie home."

"It would be a pleasure." Chris smiled back at her.

"Can we get McDonalds for dinner?" Suzie asked, releasing her grip.

"You had hamburgers for lunch, Suzie."

"I'll get chicken nuggets … and a chocolate shake."

"And a salad," Susan said firmly.

"Ok … a salad too."


	9. Chapter 9

AUTHOR' NOTE: Just a quick comment about thelay-out of Susan's apartment. When I first started writing fics I based the arrangement of Luka's apartment on what I saw on my tv. While the presence of an upstairs was occassionally hinted at, we never saw either a staircase or a second bedroom. It wasn't until Sam and Alex moved in during Season 11 that the apartment suddenly miraculously gained an open staircase and two bedrooms. So in all my fics, the apartment (now Susan's) has the same basic arrangement; an open-plan living space with kitchen along one wall, one bedroom on the same level, and a bathroom with two doors, one opening to the bedroom (as we saw in Hindsight) and one opening to the living room (as we saw in Forgive and Forget).

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Susan unlocked the front door and waved her niece inside, then flipped on the light. She had to smile as Suzie's mouth and eyes opened wide in shocked delight.

"Wow … it's so big … and so nice. It's way better than our apartment in Albany."

Susan's smile faded as she thought about what that apartment in Albany must have been like if her own relatively sparse quarters could elicit such a response.

"Unfortunately, what you see is what you get. My room's through there, but there's no extra bedroom for you. Tonight you'll have to sleep on the couch. Tomorrow we'll figure out something a little better."

Suzie had flopped down onto the couch and was taking her food out of the take-out bag. She motioned to the far end of the room. "This room is huge. It's way bigger than it has to be. You could build a wall over there … make another bedroom."

"That sounds like a lot of work, and I don't think the landlord would like it very much. I was thinking of something like a cot, or a chair that opens into a bed."

"I had my own room in Albany."

"And you'll have one again in North Dakota."

"Yeah … I guess so ..."

Susan was startled. Suzie seemed to have forgotten that this was just temporary. In a few weeks Chloe would be well again and she and Suzie would be on their way. "Well," she said after a moment, "tomorrow we have a lot to do. We have to go shopping and get you new clothes and a bed, and we have to register you for school."

"School?" Suzie's eyes widened again.

"Yes, we do have schools here in Chicago."

"Do I have to go? Can't I wait until we get to North Dakota?"

"You can't miss that much school. Remember what Dr. Dubenko said; it will be a few weeks at least until Mom's better. You can't be out of school for that long."

Suzie just sighed and took a bite of a chicken nugget.

"You like school, don't you?" asked Susan.

"Yeah. It's ok." A shrug.

"So, what's the problem?"

"It'll be just like all the other times, Aunt Susan. I'll go to a new school, I'll start to make new friends, and then, just when I'm getting used to it I'll have to move again. It's not fair."

"I know. None of this is fair, is it? Sometimes things happen that aren't fair … or fun … but we have to make the best of them."

Just then the doorbell rang. Susan went to the intercom. "Yeah?"

"Hi Susan, it's Sam. Can I come up?"

"Sure." Susan buzzed her in and opened the apartment door.

Sam was carrying two plastic grocery bags. "Are you getting settled?" she asked.

Suzie just shrugged again, so Susan said, "Yeah, we're doing fine."

Sam gestured with the bags. "A few hand-me-downs from Alex to get her started. I think they're about the same size."

"Who's Alex?" asked Suzie.

"My son. He's 10, and just about your size."

Suzie made a face. "Boy's clothes?"

"Just jeans and tee-shirts and maybe flannet shirt or two. They're not much different than girl's clothes."

Suzie scowled and loudly slurped the last of her drink through the straw.

"It was nice of Sam to think of you," Susan said firmly. "Can you say thank you?"

"Why should I? I hate them!"

"You haven't even seen them."

"They're boy's clothes. I won't wear them and you can't make me!" Suzie burst into tears and, jumping to her feet, she ran into the bathroom and slammed the door.

Susan threw up her hands and sank onto the couch. "I'm sorry, Sam. She's not usually like this." Or, maybe she was, Susan realized. How well did she really know her? Things had obviously changed a lot in the past few years.

"Don't apologize. She's had a long, hard day … and she is only 9. This is s a lot for her to cope with."

Susan shook her head. "I don't know anything about kids, Sam! Why did I think I could do this?"

"Did you know anything about babies when you took her in the first time?"

"No," Susan admitted. "But babies are easy. You feed them when they're hungry, change them when they're wet, and give them lots of love. They don't need anything else. But adolescents … I've had her barely an hour, and I already feel like I'm in over my head."

"You'll figure it out," Sam said. "Well, I'd better get going. The babysitter has to get home. I just wanted to drop that stuff by."

Sam let herself out. The bathroom door was still closed. Susan sighed and quickly cleared away the wrappers and paper cups from dinner. Gathering sheets and blankets from the linen cupboard she made up Suzie's bed on the sofa, then went and tapped on the bathroom door.

"Suzie, are you still in there?"

"Maybe."

"Can you come out please? I have to go."

A click as the door unlocked, and then opened. Suzie stepped out, still looking sullen, her face flushed and tear streaked.

Susan didn't really have to go, but she stepped inside and shut the door and waited long enough for the lie to be convincing before coming out again.

Suzie had found the remote and was flipping channels. "This is cool," she said cheerfully. "We don't have cable. Mom said it was to keep me from spending too much time in front of the TV, but I think we just couldn't afford it." She found a show she wanted to watch and Susan sat down to watch with her.

When the show was over Susan said briskly, "Ok, it's 8:30. I think it's time for bed."

"Mom lets me stay up until 10."

"Well, I'm not Mom, and I say it's bedtime. Besides,_I've _been up since 5:30. I'm pretty tired myself. I think we've both had a rough day."

"Please? Just one more show?"

"Ok," Susan relented. "Just one more show. But first get ready for bed."

"How can I? I don't have any pajamas, remember? And I'm not wearing boys pajamas." Her voice suddenly had a panicky edge to it.

"You don't have to wear boy's pajamas. We'll find you something to wear to bed."

In the bathroom Susan found an unopened toothbrush in the medicine cabinet. While Susie washed up, Susan went into the bedroom.

She had no pajamas herself. She either slept in the raw or in one of Luka's tee-shirts. Susan smiled to herself. How would Suzie react to learn that Susan wore 'boy's pajamas' to bed?

When Suzie emerged from the bathroom Susan had changed into one of Luka's tee-shirts. She held out one of her own old shirts.

"Here. It's going to be big on you, but it's clean and warm and it will do for tonight."

"That's not pajamas."

"I know, but it's all I have. You have to wear something. If you sleep in your clothes they won't be clean for tomorrow."

Suzie nodded and took the shirt reluctantly, then perched on the edge of the bed. "I wish my stuff hadn't gotten burnt up."

"It's just for tonight. Tomorrow we'll get you new p.j.'s or nighties … whatever you want. Now get changed, then you can watch your show and go to sleep."

"Will you tuck me in?"

"You bet. I'll be there in a little while." Susan smiled and shooed her niece from the room, shutting the door behind her. Her smile vanished again and she sank wearily down on the bed, then stretched out and stared up at the ceiling.

God … what was she thinking? She couldn't take care of Suzie; it was impossible. Her work schedule was too hectic. She was on nights all next month … she was supposed to work this weekend. She couldn't possibly find a reliable sitter by then.

If Luka were still alive, she thought, she would have had an excellent reason to refuse; to turn Suzie over to foster care. He was too sick, needed too much time, too much attention, too much care. She couldn't possibly take care of both him and Suzie in a two room apartment. But of course if Luka were still alive, he would have insisted. He would never have allowed her to turn her niece over to strangers. '_She's your family, Susan_,' he would have said. '_You can't just abandon her, can you_?' Luka understood family … he valued family. You never hurt your family, and you never abandoned them. Of course Luka's experiences with family had been rather different from her own. He'd never met Chloe, or Cookie. His family hadn't defined 'dysfunctional.' Booze ... drugs ... lies ... broken promises. And heaps of denial.

The sound of the bedroom door opening startled her from her thoughts. She sat up quickly to see Suzie standing in the doorway.

"Is your show over already?"

"No, but I turned it off. I came in in the middle and I couldn't figure out what was going on." Suzie sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at her curiously for a moment. "Are you really worried about Mom?"

"No, I told you … she's going to be ok."

"Then why are you crying?"

Shit. The tears came at the damnedest times, didn't they?" Susan quickly wiped them away and tried to think of something to say. She really wasn't ready to explain about Luka. But Suzie went on. "I'm not stupid, Aunt Susan. I know that she's hurt really bad … and Dr. Dubenko even said that she might die." And Suzie's eyes were suddenly bright with tears of her own. "If she dies … what will happen to me?"

It was on the tip of Susan's tongue to say that of course she could stay with her forever … to say something reassuring. But she knew that might be a lie. Susan couldn't think beyond tomorrow, beyond tonight.

"Let's not worry about that right now. There's a really good chance that Mom will be just fine, and in a few weeks you'll be on your way to North Dakota again."

"But how? The car got burnt up. How will we get there?"

"We'll figure something out. Come on now, let's get you off to bed."

"You're really in a hurry to get rid of us, aren't you?"

The words, too blunt, too honest, stopped Susan cold. She stammered for a moment, then began, "Of course not ..." but Suzie interrupted again.

"You didn't call or write or visit us for ages. Now we're here and all you can talk about is us going away again."

"Suzie," Susan said firmly. "I'm not trying to get rid of you. But Mom is going to be ok. And when she's better she has that great job waiting for her. She'll want to get on with things, not hang around here with her little sister."

Susan walked Suzie back to the couch and tucked the blankets over her and kissed her cheek. "Good night." Then back to her own bed, where she cried herself to sleep.


End file.
